


sting in the tail

by Cloudnine101



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: First Kiss, Jealousy, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Vasquez is Jack's guy now, but that's okay. Rhys is cool with it. Totally. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(Or: in which Jack's attempt to make Rhys jealous kinda backfires.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Day One  
_

 

_06.08_

"Good morning," Rhys says, shouldering his bag higher. "You're looking great."

Vaughn smiles, slightly. "Well, that's nice of you." He hurries to catch up. He's holding a stack of paperwork; Rhys can just about make out his glasses over the top of it. "You're in a good mood. What happened last night?"

Rhys can't fight down his grin. Everything feels so fresh - so new - like it's tangible, like he could touch it. He can still see Jack's face on the other side of the holopad, asking him to come in early the next morning - what were the exact words he'd used? "If you have the time, could you swing by?" It'd been _perfect_. Of course, it could simply mean more work, but Rhys is willing to dream big.

"I don't know," Rhys says. "Guess I'm just happy today."

The fact is, Rhys thinks, as he says goodbye to Vaughn with a slap on the back, it's about time he gets what he deserves. Jack's been his mentor for years, now. Jack's been training him and guiding him, and what has Rhys given back? Nothing. This would be the perfect opportunity.

But, of course, it's not all about giving back. Rhys wishes it was. That way, it would be honest. But the things he feels about Jack? He can't ever share those - not with his colleagues, not with his friends, not even with Vaughn.

In any other business, having a crush on your boss might be something you laugh at together, Rhys muses, slipping his key card into the elevator. But in this one? Somebody would stab him in the back in a heartbeat.

As much as Rhys hates to admit it, he doesn't want Jack to know about his little infatuation - ever. Best case scenario, he'd sweep Rhys into his arms and tell him that he loved him all along - that every mistake Rhys has made hasn't mattered. Worst case - Jack laughs, and then jettisons him out of the airlock. Rhys shivers.

Jack's strong. He's powerful, and not just in the physical sense - he radiates it. The first time Rhys stepped into a room with him, it had been like walking into the jungle - or close to it. Rhys has never actually set foot in one of those. Jack showed him photos this one time, and promised to take him there, but he never will, Rhys knows. It'd be a media storm. What's the richest man in the galaxy doing with his PA? This PA, by the way, eats rice straight out of tins and has no central heating.

Jack is - Jack is good, deep down. He's kind to his daughter - he has pictures of her all over his desk. He's funny - makes Rhys laugh until his sides ache, sometimes. If anybody ever comes close to offending Rhys while he's around, he throws them out of the office himself. There was that time with the fire extinguisher and the cafeteria, too, but Rhys managed to get it off the records, so that was alright. And Jack's honest. Rhys can't think of a time when he's ever lied. 

Looking deep into his eyes in the restroom mirror, Rhys exhales. "Okay, buddy. You can do this. Just act natural. He probably wants extra coffee or something. What he _doesn't_ want is to ask you out. That would be ridiculous."

"You tell yourself," a guy Rhys has never spoken to before (but vaguely recognises) says, ducking into a cubicle.

Rhys summons up a smile. "Yeah."

 

_06.18_

It takes a surprisingly long time to get anywhere on Hyperion. The corridors are all seemingly endless. People have petitioned more than once to be allowed to use buggies, but no one's succeeded yet. Jack once confessed to him that he'd may a guy run from one side to the other without his shirt on for fun.

And Jack - Jack is kind of an asshole, sometimes, but he's _Rhys's_ asshole. They've been together long enough for Rhys to be allowed to say that.

He can't have been misinterpreting all of the signs, can he? The late nights without much paperwork, the occasional coffee cups with his name on them in the morning, the long touches of hands and legs and feet. Granted, it's not much to go on, but it's all Rhys has - and he so desperately wants it not to be a lie.

When he eyes himself in the mirrored wall, Rhys discovers that he's pale. What can he do about that? He's always pale. He should have worn a nicer suit, though. He'd been torn between going all out and picking the one he'd worn to his sister's wedding, or playing it casual. In the end, he'd gone for the latter - what if he was misreading everything? Now, he wishes he'd done more.

Walking through the office, Rhys has time to admire the splendour of it, as he does pretty much every time he's here, really. This office was built to impress. Everything about it - especially the view over the stars - is beautiful. Jack had given him a tour on his very first day. Rhys still looks back on it with a smile. He'd stumbled over all of his words, electrified by Jack's hand on his shoulder, terrified of making a mistake. Would he do the same thing now? Or would he lean into the touch? Rhys honestly couldn't say if he had the guts.

"Oh, Rhys, you're finally here," Jack says. He's sitting back in his chair. He's always the first thing Rhys's eyes are drawn to, once he comes into view. He's smirking, hair slicked backwards, hands drumming out a beat against the desk. "Thought you'd decided to take a sick day."

Something cold and small builds in Rhys's chest. He swallows around it.

"I'm on time," Rhys tries to say, but he's interrupted by laughter - throaty laughter, Vasquez's laughter. Rhys grits his teeth. Perfect. That asshole just _has_ to be around. "Morning, Vasquez."

"And here was I thinking you were gonna ignore me." Vasquez is standing right beside Jack's chair. He's smiling, too, that smug smile he gets when he has something, a hot date or a new car or a promotion. People and money are the same to Vasquez. Rhys is pretty certain he's never had an honest emotion about anyone other than himself. "Hey there, _Rhys_."

Rhys turns his eyes back to Jack. He waits.

"Sorry, Rhys," Jack says, playing with one of his nails, "looks like I called you here under false pretences. You could've stayed in bed. Vasquez worked it all out for me."

Vasquez preens, chest puffing up.

Rhys stares. "What?"

Jack stands up, and the rest of the room falls away. It's just him - his bearing, his posture, his eyes, searching, never staying still. His eyes were the first part of him Rhys had fallen in love with. He couldn't drop his own if he tried.

"I _said_ , Vasquez worked it all out for me. In fact, you could probably take a couple of hours off. Get some me-time, if you know what I'm saying."

As if his spring had been pulled, Vasquez begins to chuckle. The noise is too loud. Normally, Rhys and Jack work quietly together, with the chats and coffee runs interspersed within that. It's an amiable sort of quiet. Vasquez is ruining it, but Jack shows not sign of having noticed. He's peering backwards over his shoulder.

"But I'm supposed to be helping you," Rhys gets out, lost. "It's my job."

Jack's face doesn't shift. "A lot of people have jobs, kiddo. Vasquez has a job, and he's doing it."

"Right," Rhys says, "Vasquez."

"You got a problem with me?" Vasquez asks, stupidly.

Rhys shakes his head. "No. Of course not. Well, I'll be back later. Goodbye."

Jack doesn't bother to say _bye, kitten_ , like he usually would. He doesn't say _see you around_ , or _don't be too long_ , or _this whole place would fall apart without you_. That last one had been Rhys's favourite, before _don't want other people thinking they can have you_ came into the picture. Rhys has had sleepless nights picking apart the meaning in that particular nugget.

The door shuts behind him, and the last thing Rhys hears is Jack saying, "Wow, Vasquez. You're one Hell of a - "

He's alone in the corridor. Rhys slams his fist into the wall.

 

_12.30_

"That ass," Rhys says, shoving his tray half-into the bench. "Who does he think he is?"

"Hello to you, too." Vaughn shakes his head. "What's your arch-nemesis done to you now?"

"I don't believe this. I've been Jack's PA for years. I've covered up his blunders, organised his media conferences, sent his donations down to Pandora. And what do I get for all that work - all that energy? Nothing!"

"Well, that is your job." Vaughn peers at him. "What does any of this have to do with Vasquez?"

"Just look at him," Rhys says, around a mouthful of his protein bar. "What could he possibly do that I can't?"

Across the cafeteria, Vasquez high-fives one of his cronies and takes a swig from his perfectly balanced cup of coffee at the same time.

Vaughn winces. "Well, he is pretty popular. It's fine - we're all nerds here. But you're not exactly at the top of the party pile. Maybe Handsome Jack wants somebody he can drink with, and - and pick up girls with, or something."

"I'd totally be up for that!" Rhys almost shouts. He lowers his voice to a hiss. "Totally."

Vaughn shrugs. "Whatever you say, bro. Vasquez is a badass, and down here, we're all shmucks. At least, that's the way senior management sees it."

Rhys sighs. "You're right. That's all Jack sees me as - some corporate goon. But - " What can he say? He thought they were getting closer? What was the chance of that? "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?" Yvette says, pulling out a chair. She glances between the two of them. Rhys dips his head. "Looks like I've come at a bad time. Have you been fighting?"

"No, nothing like that," Rhys says quickly. "It's just - it appears that Vasquez is about to take over my position."

"Oh, Rhys." Yvette lays a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll prove your worth. Vasquez may be rich, but underneath his shiny suit, he's a sack of - "

"Heh, yeah, I know." Rhys smiles. "Thanks, guys. I think I've got it sorted in my head, now. I was just misreading some signals. I'll get back my position. I just have to - not be too personal."

"That's the spirit," Vaughn says.

Rhys barely even hears him.

 

_13.56_

"How does it feel to lose?" Vasquez says. His pack of friends are huddled against the far wall, too far away to hear. Rhys is glad of that. It's them - Vasquez and him - that he's concerned about. "Because that's what you're doing."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Vasquez snorts. "Please. Don't pull that card with me, Rhys. You know and I know that by the end of the day, there's going to be a card in your office with my name on it - and then it'll be my office." Vasquez looks pleased with himself over that one. It's a typical example of his genius.

"You've got nothing on me," Rhys says, "and, if worst comes to worst, I know what happened with Cara from IT the other day. Don't think I won't use it."

Vasquez turns puce. He leans in, grabbing Rhys's collar. "Listen here, you. I am not about to lose my one chance over some spotty intern who thinks he's _personal_ with Jack."

Rhys shoves his away and steps back. "Since when are you two on a first name basis?"

"Since he asked me to be," Vasquez leers, leaning closer, "this morning."

"This morning," Rhys echoes. It'd taken him weeks - months, even - to gain that level of mutual respect - that level of familiarity. And Vasquez gets it in _hours_?

"Got nothing to say to that, have you?" Vasquez smiles. "Face it, Rhys. I'm a harder worker than you are. I'm tougher. I'm cooler. And, quite frankly, I'm far better looking. There is no way Jack likes you more than he likes me. It's not possible."

Rhys hits him in the face. Vasquez falls to the ground heavily, clutching his cheek. Rhys's curled hand is shaking. There's an ugly mark beside Vasquez's eye.

Vasquez's friends have fallen silent, their muted conversation dying away, as Vasquez pushes himself backwards along the ground. "I'll have you fired!" he snarls, waving his fist at Rhys and getting up, "You'll wish you'd never come to Hyperion! I'll make you live to regret it!"

Rhys turns on his heel and leaves.

 

_14.01_

The adrenaline rush dies down about five minutes later. Rhys slumps against the wall and buries his head in his hands. He looks around him. For a second, he isn't sure where he is. He knows soon enough. He's outside Jack's office, right where his feet have taken him. "Traitors," Rhys whispers to his shoes, and slumps to the ground.

He barely registers the swish of the door opening. "You look like Hell," Jack tells him, squatting down. "What happened to your hand?"

Rhys looks at him. "I punched Vasquez."

Jack's eyes widen almost imperceptibly.

"You - I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have. I got carried away in the moment. Please don't kick me out."

"Why would I do that?" Jack says, his hands skimming Rhys's knuckles. They withdraw quickly, leaving Rhys colder than he was before. Clouds of Jack's breath bloom against his cheek. "I'm proud of you, Rhys. You stood up for yourself."

Rhys shakes his head. "That was the wrong way to do it. And anyway, I thought Vasquez was your guy, now."

"He is," Jack says, "kinda. It's a long story, princess, and I don't have time to tell it. You wanna come in? We could make a start on some of that filing. It's gonna take me an age to get through it on my own."

Rhys blinks twice. "Sure," he says, stumbling to his feet. Jack's hand lands on his arm. It's almost as though they're precisely where they left off last night - like this morning never happened. The tone in Jack's voice had been - what had it been? Rhys doesn't know anymore. He can't remember anything. He's got it all wrong. "Lead the way."

Jack smiles and guides him into the office.

 

_16.44_

They work solidly for the next couple of hours without saying a word that isn't essential. After a while, Rhys loses track of time. He pushes down everything that Vasquez had said, and focuses on Jack's body in front of his, and the way in which they work, two halves of the same system.

It can't last, he knows. Two equal halves are meant to be equally strong, and he and Jack just - aren't. Vasquez was right - he is tougher than Rhys. Rhys had never had to face an emotional challenge in his life before today, and he messed it up. Rhys's breath comes tight in his chest. Is Jack looking for the right time to get rid of him? Is he trying to do it nicely?

Jack's hands raise up behind his head. "Sorry to tell you this, Rhysie, but I'm beat. If I have to stamp another sheet my arms are gonna fall off."

"You sure about that?" Rhys asks. "Because there's just _one_ more I need, and it won't take long."

Jack rolls his eyes. "Anything for you," he says, and grabs the piece of paper. He writes his name in a flourishing hand. "Although why we can't use computers for this is beyond me."

"Head management likes paper copies," Rhys says distractedly, and collects in his pile, straightening the edges. "Less chance of them being tampered with by freaks like me."

Jack laughs. "You should mess 'em up, you know. Just once. Do something daring."

Do something daring. So that's what Jack wants from him. Rhys can be daring. He can be like Vasquez, with a different partner from a different planet every weekend. But what would be the point, when he only really wants Jack?

"That's not in my nature," Rhys says. 

 

_17.00_

"Finally," Jack shouts, as the doors part before Rhys, "what took you so long?"

"The queue was massive." Rhys jogs up the steps. He places the cups down in front of them, and smirks. This has become a game between them now, ever since something similar happened on Rhys's third day. "Here's yours."

"What's that?" Jack says, and pretends to sniff at it. His lip curls. "Doesn't smell like mine."

"Whoops," Rhys says, "must've mixed up the cups. Here."

Instead of taking his own, Jack holds onto Rhys's. "What is it?"

"Peppermint," Rhys says, "and it's yours if you want it."

Jack pulls a face, eyes glittering. "Nah. Peppermint's not really my style. Try not to get confused next time."

"Sure thing," Rhys says. Something lifts inside him. He inhales. "Jack."

Jack stops. "Well, would you look at that. You actually do know my name. I figured you thought of me as sir." Jack flexes his fingers. His knuckles crack. "You know, this actually reminds me of - get this - something Vasquez said - "

Rhys flinches.

"What's wrong, Rhys? You're looking a little - weird."

"Weird? Why would I be weird? Everything's normal. Everything's fine." Rhys puts down his pen. "Except for the fact that I, you know, punched my co-worker in the face, and he's probably going to file assault charges. But what do I care?"

Jack moves to stand behind him. From this distance, Rhys can smell his cologne - something floral, today. It's a change from the usual, which is more like a musk. Rhys likes this one better.

"That's one of the many perks of having me as a boss," Jack says, a hand on the back of his chair, fingers brushing lightly into the space between Rhys's shoulder-blades. "I can make problems like this blow away."

"You can't blow away Vasquez." Rhys shakes his head. He grips the table. "I was under the distinct impression that he was your guy, now."

"Where'd you get that from? Him?" Jack's hands move onto Rhys's shoulders. He presses downwards, and Rhys is startled by the warmth into gasping. Jack's smile is practically audible. He strokes downwards. "Vasquez is a means to an end, Rhysie - although this particular end is getting away from me, somewhat."

Rhys forces himself to speak. "Is this something to do with the business?"

"Sort of." Jack's hands roll towards his chest, and then dip back up before they reach it. "It could be seen that way, yeah."

Rhys swallows. The sound is wet, even to his own ears. He winces. "Anything - anything I can help with, sir?"

"I don't know," Jack murmurs, "is it something I can ask you about?"

He seems to be talking more to himself than to Rhys.

"I'm always happy to try. You can rely on me."

"Not so sure you'd be happy about this one, cupcake." Jack blows out through his teeth. "But God, do I want you to be." The last part is said in an undertone. Rhys has to strain to hear it.

"Do you want me to be - what?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud. You know me. Never can keep my big mouth shut." Jack laughs, but it's not his real laugh. The sound is brittle. "Just forget about it. Don't concern yourself with my messed up head."

"You're not messed up," Rhys says, but Jack waves him away, and goes to stand in front of the windows.

"Imagine, for a moment," Jack eventually says, "that you were a different guy - a worse guy. I know him. He's always had everything he wanted - money, power, good looks - and then suddenly, he - finds himself falling, and he doesn't know why. He has to do a lot of thinking, and he realises - he realises that he's head over heels in love, taking the train down to heartbreak town. Now, I know it's difficult to imagine - somebody rejecting me - but let's say, for the sake of argument, that they were going to, if you ever told them. What would you do?"

Rhys hesitates. His hands are dry, so he wipes them on his trousers. "I - I wouldn't tell them," he says, and then his mouth runs away with him. "I'd just try to do good by them, and eventually, I'd find somebody else."

"What if there was no one else? What if this person was - perfect for you? What if nobody else would do? You'd spend time with other people- beautiful people - and you'd see their faces looking back at you, and you'd be thinking of him."

"Then I'd hurt - a lot. But I'd still let them go - I'd have to. Even if I was around them all the time - even if I spent every day working with them." Rhys crumples one of the pages of his planner into a ball, and drops it, crushing it beneath the heel of is shoe. "It'd hurt."

"I guess the game's up, then." Jack smiles. "He'll never reciprocate."

"He might. I can't think why he wouldn't."

"You can't, can you?" Suddenly, Jack's right in front of him. His hand's hovering dangerously close to Rhys's neck, but then it withdraws, and Rhys watches. "Go on. Get out of here. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

Rhys begins to pack up his kit. "Whoever he is, sir - "

"I don't want to talk about it." Jack folds his arms across his chest. "Didn't you hear me? I said _get out_."

Rhys takes the stairs two at a time. His eyes sting, and it's ridiculous - pathetic - but he almost wants to turn back. He doesn't. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Day Two_

 

_05.30_

Rhys's alarm wakes him. He's lying in bed, warm and snug and curled in on himself, and all he can think about is - Jack. And himself. And the complete lack of - of anything between them, which is fine. It's all fine. Vasquez is Jack's guy now, but that's okay. Rhys is cool with it. Totally. 

Sure, Rhys may not be in the stratosphere as far as looks are concerned, but he's not ugly, either. What does Vasquez have that he doesn't? Cheekbones, a prominent torso and good hair? Please. There's got to be something else - something more - something that distinguishes Vasquez to Jack. All Rhys has to do is find it, and emulate the heck out of it. Should be simple, really. 

Rhys rolls onto his back and covers his eyes with his arm. 

_06.10_

"Rhys! Rhys! Did you hear about it?"

Rhys stops. He runs a hand over his eyes. Vaughn comes to a halt at his side, breathless.

"Hear about what?" Rhys asks. "Sorry, bro."

"Vasquez got fired," Vaughn pants. "Apparently, there was this massive row between him and Handsome Jack last night. Yvette saw him get on a ship and leave - nobody knows where to. But this is great news, right? Your biggest rival's gone!"

"I've gotta go," Rhys says. He takes the corridor at a run. Vasquez? Gone? How? And - why? Hadn't he been so essential to Jack the previous day? Hadn't he been about to take Rhys's position? Hadn't Rhys spent the whole night pacing around his apartment? And yeah, he _did_ do that. Who's there to judge him?

 

_06.15_

Rhys's keycard isn't working. He fumbles for it and tries again. Nothing. No access. That means one of two things. One: for some reason, Jack isn't inside, long past the time when he normally arrives. Two: Rhys's access code has been rescinded.

There's no way Handsome Jack would take a sick day. None.

"Jack, I know you're in there. Open the door! Open up!" He slams his fists against it. No response. Rhys steps back. "Alright. If that's how you want to play it, I'll use the insanely dangerous trapdoor underneath your office, and then when I'm ground to shreds, it'll be all your fault!"

It's still quiet. Rhys steps back. "I'm going!" he calls. "I mean it!"

The door slides open. Jack's standing in it, saying, "Fine, you got me, kiddo. I'm here. What'd you want?"

Rhys gesticulates frantically, before realising that what he's doing a) makes no sense and b) judging from Jack's expression, looks insane. "I want to know why my keycard isn't letting me in."

"Technical glitch?"

Rhys stares.

"Okay, you got me again. No, it's not a glitch. Fact is, I wanted some time to myself this morning, so I locked you out. I sent all of the paperwork to your office. After what went down between us last night, I figured you'd want to be back in your own space. I installed a hatch and everything. You could just have pushed it through."

As far as Jack knows, Rhys hates his office. He'd told Jack as much, and that's the sole reason why he's allowed so much time with Jack. In reality, Rhys's office is pretty sweet. The view's picturesque, the water fountain sparkles, and soothing music plays none stop - but it's not as though Jack ever checks up on him. One little lie couldn't hurt - or, at least, that's what Rhys thought. Why would Jack send him back to a place Rhys claimed to be riddled with mould and rat-droppings?

Jack's not quite meeting his eye.

"Why would I want my own - you know what, scratch that. Explain it to me. Make it so I understand."

"What's the first thing you said to me, Rhys, the first time we met?"

"I don't know," Rhys stammers, "I can't remember."

Jack's smile softens at the edges. "You said - nice shoes."

Rhys wracks his brains. "I - did it? It sounds - suitably stupid."

"I wore those shoes every day for three weeks, and I hated them. I only had them on because they were the closest thing to hand when I woke up." Jack shakes his head. "You getting it now?"

"I'm not," Rhys says. "Really."

Jack sighs. "Let me put it this way." He leans closer and cups Rhys's face with his hand. Jack's hands are - better than Rhys imagined, actually. They're soft. They're warm. Rhys wants to close his eyes, but any minute now, Jack's going to make some kind of joke or quip or something, anything, to make this go away.

Jack kisses him. He breathes into Rhys's mouth gently, at first. Rhys gasps. He makes some kind of noise, and that seems to startle Jack out of his trance. Rhys pushes forwards with his lips, and Jack's hands come down lower onto his hips. Rhys moves nearer, and they don't hit the wall, and so Jack supports them both.

They break apart. Jack's smiling, both eyes shut, but when he opens them, the smile's gone. Rhys keeps holding onto his arm.

"I know, I know," Jack says, "you didn't mean to do that, and you're sorry. It's cool. Nothing to forgive."

Rhys stares blankly.

"What, cat got your tongue? Come on, kiddo, don't leave me hanging."

"That was incredible," Rhys says. "Please tell me we can do that again."

"Wait," Jack says. "Hold up. You're telling me that you - enjoyed that."

Rhys sighs. "No, Jack. I made all of those pathetic sounding noises because I hated it, and I groped your ass because I was forced to."

"Woah." Jack's hand shoots onto his upper arm. "This is a new development."

"Why'd you fire Vasquez?" Rhys asks.

Jack shrugs. "Jerk was getting on my nerves," he sniffs. "Also, he may or may not have said something about you that I just couldn't handle."

Rhys licks his lips. "You chucked Vasquez off Helios for me," he says. "That's - kinda sweet, actually."

"Don't get used to it." Jack rocks forwards and kisses him again - just once, on the corner of his lips. He beckons Rhys closer with one finger. "Even though I'm still thinking is is some kinda fantastic dream, feel free to come into my office."

"Wish granted," Rhys says, smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

_Day Three_

 

_01.22_

Jack's stretched backwards across the console, flicking his pen up and down. Rhys is curled in the chair, watching him. His boots are propped up on the chair. Jack has always been beautiful, but Rhys can't remember seeing him this relaxed.

"You know, when you called me in here, I was pretty sure that was a metaphor for sex."

Jack cranes his neck to smile at him. "We can't all get what we want first time around," he says.

"Oh, ha ha." Rhys starts tearing a sheet of paper into shreds. "I don't want sex."

"Oh?"

Rhys shakes his head. "Not right now, anyway."

Jack shrugs. "Okay." He pulls himself along the side of the desk and drapes his legs over it. They land on the arms of Rhys's chair. Rhys, smiling, lays his head on Jack's knee. Jack makes a small, pleased sound in the back of his throat - a sound Rhys could listen too all day long, if he's being perfectly honest.

Jack's fingers start carding through his hair. "Eager there, kitten," he murmurs, but he doesn't sound angry.

Rhys starts. "You know, it's only just occurred to me what a massive problem this is going to turn into."

Jack's hand stills. When Rhys turns his face, it's to find Jack's face frozen; but when he speaks, his voice is level. "Why's that?"

Rhys huffs a laugh. "Well, you're my boss. This company's back-stabbing, to put it politely. Vaughn's the only one I know I can trust completely. People are going to assume I'm - sleeping my way up the ladder."

Jack looks horrified. "They think I'd be influenced by that?" His horror drops away. "They'd be right, but - they _think_ that? Really?"

Rhys shrugs. "Also, people are going to connect Vasquez leaving with our - thing pretty quickly. And then they're going to blame me."

"Wouldn't they pin it on me? Hell, I'm the one responsible, after all. Not that I regret it. That guy was insufferable." Jack leans backwards with a sigh. "I couldn't handle it. He was just - slimy, you know? I mean, at first, I thought of it like a kind of social experiment - how much worse can everybody else be than Rhys?"

Despite his best intentions, Rhys flushes. He glances down. "Hey, hold up, I think my watch is wrong. How long have we been in here for?"

"Uh, half an hour, maybe? I think?" Jack rolls his eyes. "Spit it out, kiddo."

"It's half one in the morning," Rhys says. "We've been inside this room for hours."

"Knew there was a reason I was tired." Jack yawns, stretching. "Wish I could say I kept a bed in here, but I only have the couch. It's probably time we were getting home."

Rhys sits backwards. "Oh. Goodnight, then."

Suddenly, Jack doesn't seem all too keen on leaving. "Aren't you gonna ask me for a goodnight kiss?"

"Pretty sure I don't have to ask for it." Tipping his chin up, Rhys smiles as Jack's hands dig into his shoulders. He pushes forwards. "Okay, fine. Would you do me the honour of kissing me, Jack?"

"It'd be my pleasure," Jack says, and Rhys fights down his grin. 

Jack kisses almost carefully, at first. He takes Rhys's face in his hands and strokes his thumbs downwards, matching the little spirals and swoops in Rhys's chest. His breath is warm, and ever so slightly sweet.

When Rhys starts slumping downwards against his shoulder, Jack winds an arm around him. The memories are vague - he's being led over to he couch, he has a view of space, and Jack's hand is on his shoulder, caressing him. 

 

_05.23_

"Good morning, cupcake," Jack says, as Rhys finds himself waking. "Rise and shine."

Jack's already standing by the window. He's looking backwards over his shoulder. Rhys stumbles to his feet. He downs the water at his elbow in swallows and makes his way to Jack's side.

"It's beautiful," Rhys says, squeezing Jack's arm. "I can see why you spend so much time up here. I thought you were a hard worker, but no - you're abusing your privileges."

"I'm absolutely certain you weren't this mouthy before we started kissing. Is it my effect?"

Rhys doesn't bother to reply. He stretches instead. "I can't believe this is actually happening." He shakes his head, and says, "You're going to laugh at me for this, but I've wanted you for so long - since I came here, really."

Jack hums. "It's taking a while to sink in for me, too."

"Why? You must've known. I wasn't exactly subtle."

"A lot of people kiss my ass, princess."

Rhys shoves his shoulder and darts away. Jack rounds on him with a grunt, and Rhys brandishes the stapler as threateningly as he can manage. "Don't come any closer. I'm armed and dangerous." He pulls the end back, and fires a staple in Jack's vague direction. "Take that, bandit scum!"

Jack's smiling. "Oh, think you're tough, do you? I'll show you what Handsome Jack's made of." As he says this, he vaults the desk - as in, jumps over the desk - and lands at Rhys's side.

"That was - impressive," Rhys admits, as Jack buries his face in the space between his neck and shoulder. "Ah - ah - this is - very - "

Jack inhales. "Mm. How do you smell this good?"

"It's just my natural scent," Rhys says, pressing a kiss against Jack's temple, at the point where the mask meets his skin. Twisting, Jack catches Rhys in his arms. Rhys laughs, but falls into it readily enough. Jack peppers kisses along the line of his throat, hands fisting in Rhys's shirt. Rhys can practically taste his cologne - it sits on the back of his throat - and feel the cold his knuckles.

 

_08.45_

"We probably should be getting some work done," Rhys says. "Seeing as this is the job you're paying me to do, and not Vasquez.'

Jack's arm around him tightens. "Yeah, that's not happening."

Rhys shifts against his side, touching Jack's forehead lightly with the pads of his fingers. "I think shirtless suits you," he says, "but when Ms Cardener comes up for her nine o'clock, she might not."

"I'd have thought my incredible kissing skills would've wiped all sense from your brain by now."

"I'm sure I'll be putty in your hands in a couple of days. Keep working at it." With a conciliatory pat to Jack's ribcage, Rhys gets up. He grins. "I'll see you later?"

"Count on it."

Rhys waves Jack goodbye, and practically floats down to the lower floor.

 

_10.16_

"You did _what_?"

"Keep it down," Rhys hisses. "I don't want everybody to find out about this."

"Tell me you're kidding. Please, please tell me that this is some kind of massive trick." Vaughn kneads his temples with both hands. "This is not happening. The man's a psycho! He blew up a planet because the chief tribesman disagreed with his clothing style!"

"That _was_ a nasty belt," Rhys says, "but that's not the point. We're keeping it on the low-down."

"Are you sure he's - good? Because from what I've heard, Handsome Jack isn't the type for meaningful relationships. I just - if you're set on this, which I really, really hope you're not, keep your guard up. He used to like Vasquez, and look how that worked out."

"I'll be careful, don't worry. Besides, how is anybody going to know about it?"

 

_12.46_

Rhys is halfway through his third report when Jack's voice crackles over the speakers. Rhys looks up in interest, pen poised on the line. "Hey, folks! This is Handsome Jack speaking - the one, the only, your hero, etcetera."

From the next cubicle, Vaughn shoots him a concerned glance, which Rhys, for the sake of future relations between them, chooses to ignore.

"This isn't a scheduled announcement, I know, but I've got something very important to say, and that is - " There's a brief crackling. Rhys smiles. " - that I am now madly in love with your co-worker! Say hi, Rhys! Yeah, you know the guy. Six foot two, cybernetic arm, insanely attractive - that's him."

At least forty pairs of eyes swivel his way.

"So, if any of you feel like offering congratulations, now would be the time to do it, seeing as he _has_ picked up the most powerful and attractive man in the galaxy." Jack chuckles. "That's me, in case anybody hadn't guessed - which you obviously had. Who else would it be?"

Rhys buries his face in his hands.


	4. Chapter 4

_Day Ten_

 

_12.31_

They're crammed into the back of the cruiser. Jack had wanted to take his personal landcraft, but Rhys had said this would attract less attention - as if Jack wasn't going to attract enough attention, come _on_. But Rhys had insisted - something about _personal safety_ \- and so there'd been no choice but to obey.

Now, though, Jack is regretting not grabbing Rhys's arm and throwing him into the private mobile. They could've been kissing on silken sheets by now, instead of being shoved shoulder to shoulder in the company of a bunch of slimy greaseballs.

Jack risks a glance across. Rhys is staring out of the window, apparently enraptured by the scrubby Pandoran landscape flashing by. Jack doesn't bother to hide his smile - let the lackeys gossip.

Hopefully, Rhys should get two ideas out of this little trip. No, strike that - three. One: Handsome Jack handles his own business. Sure, he'll send people out when the stakes aren't high, but when they _are_ , he's the first guy on the scene. Two: Rhys shouldn't ask to accompany him on the future, relationship or no. Three: Jack is a badass, and one who Rhys should definitely consider kissing at some point in the very near future.

Yeah. That last one came up out of nowhere.

Uncomfortable, a Jack shifts his position, and ends up elbowing some moron in the ribs. Rhys's eyes flicker across to him. Jack bites his lip, and swallows whatever insult he was about to spout. Rhys doesn't have to know about his really bad outbursts until later on - much later on, as in, preferably, never.

Rhys's smile is only really present in his eyes, but Jack'll take that. Rhys looks outside again, but this time, Jack has his attention. Jack takes the time to let his gaze wander, slipping down to Rhys's pressed slacks, his bouncing foot. He's nervous. Jack hates that.

"How long 'til we're there?" Jack asks.

At least three of the idiots scramble to answer. "About an hour, sir," one of them says.

Jack folds his arms over his chest. He dips his head down to his chin and tries not to think about strangling anybody.

 

_13.28_

They set up camp as quickly as they can, and wait for the scumbags to arrive. Jack picks at his fingernails. Fact is, this can't be over fast enough for him. This gang's going to get what's coming to it soon enough. Even if they do have legal rights to the territory, it's Jack's. It's practically got Jack's name on it.

There's a dust storm on the way. The bandits are going to have to come soon, or else they'll all be stuck down here overnight. Jack can practically see the way it'll go - Rhys grumpy, everybody else massively infuriating, no clean water for washing, barely enough to drink -

Rhys's hand lands on his shoulder. Jack wants to take hold of it. He rocks backwards and let's Rhys support him.

"Can't wait until we're back home," Rhys says.

Jack smiles. "Yeah." He likes the sound of that - a home, just for the two of them. And that doesn't include Rhys's stupid accountant friend or the girl who's always trying to get Rhys to buy lunch for her. If that's not a blatant come-on, then Jack's a flying monkey. Come on! Who even tries something like that? It's perfectly obvious that Rhys is taken, and that Rhys is _his_. If that girl - that Yvette - does anything -

"You're quiet today," Rhys mumbles, and smooths down his hair. "What are you planning? World domination?"

Jack smiles. "Got it." He stands and faces Rhys. "There's this new restaurant I've been meaning to show you. It's a couple of planets off, but you can take a vacation."

"No," Rhys says, too slowly, "I can't. I don't have any free time left."

"Here I am, giving you some. Isn't it great?"

"I always get my work done, Jack. That's the reason I've got as far as I - as far as I have."

Jack ignores that. "You'll love it. You can have twelve courses, and each one of them cooked by a different chef. You can even eat the chef if you want to! That's how much I'll be paying!"

Rhys's nose wrinkles. "Thanks, but no thanks."

The sky's changing to a kind of muddy brown colour. It's almost the same as the sand. There are a few clouds in it, and one of them looks like a gun Jack used to own.

Jack tweaks Rhys's chin. "Hey. Don't worry. Everything's gonna be fine."

Rhys takes a deep breath in, but his smile is very obviously faked. Jack feels something close to irritation growing in his chest. He does his best to squash it.

 

_16.40_

Jack crams his hands into his pockets. The man's looking at him - like he's got the upper hand, which he probably does, if things go the way they look to be heading. Rhys's face is tight and pale.

Swearing, Jack pulls out his gun, takes aim, and fires. The man falls down into a heap.

It occurs to Jack, suddenly and sharply, that Rhys has probably never watched anybody die before. This is his first time - and, all things considered, he's taking it pretty well. Sure, his hands are shaking, but aside from that, he's a picture of composure.

"So, yeah," Jack says, "I think that wraps things up. Tell your boss I want to speak to him, and not just some lackey."

"I'm pretty sure that was the ganglord's little brother," Rhys says, quiet as always, at his elbow. "And now he's going to go after you."

Jack waves a hand. "Well, this just got interesting, then. Pack up your stuff, everybody! We're moving out!" Jack claps, and people start scurrying. He smiles at that.

Rhys still looks absurdly worried. "This gang's got real clout, Jack. Somebody might get killed in the crossfire."

There are days when Jack regrets allowing Rhys to call him by his first name. This isn't one of them.

"You worry too much," Jack says. He winds an arm around Rhys's shoulders, enjoying the feeling of warmth against his skin, and starts towing him off towards their tent. "Just live in the moment, kid!"

"You won't be saying that when your brains are being used as building material!" Rhys hisses. "I'm serious. These people are trouble. You're going to have to look after yourself better."

"Or what? You'll tell me not to?" Jack says, waggling his eyebrows. That normally gets a laugh. Today, however, Rhys is straight-faced. "Aww, come on, grumpy. Crack a smile! What, are you scared of losing a job? 'Cause, you know, if I was to die - which isn't ever gonna happen - there are some provisions set aside for you."

Rhys colours. He glances away. "You didn't have to make those."

Jack shrugs. "It's not a lot. Really. I mean, a couple of cars, a house, maybe an island - " Jack turns around. Rhys stops short. For some reason that Jack cannot fathom, he's still upset. Jack runs a hand through his hair. "Seriously, stop this. Your bad mood's just dragging my good vibes through the mud."

"Sorry," Rhys says, but there's no conviction in it. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"Share. You'll feel good about it, trust me. I'm a great listener." Jack holds open the tent-flap with one hand. Rhys ducks through. As he moves, Jack closes his eyes, listening to the swish of his clothing against his skin. After a while, there's a cough. Jack starts and then, realising how guilty he must look right now, grins. "Sorry, cupcake. Got myself distracted there."

"I could tell," Rhys says. He's sitting down, now, in the centre of the floor. He's started packing his belongings into his satchel. Jack moves in opposite him. He crouches - no way he's getting his legs dirty - and waits. Eventually, Rhys pauses. "I don't want you to die."

"And why's that?"

Rhys clears his throat. "The paperwork," he croaks.

Jack runs a finger along the line of his throat. He watches it move with pleasure. "That so?"

 

_23.11_

In bed that night, Jack makes a copy of a nearby constellation play across the ceiling. He watches it until Rhys's breathing begins to even. Jack's hand rises as Rhys's chest moves. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of that. Rhys has freckles on his back - he's been out in the sun. He probably got them doing some stupid - playing frisbee with his little friends. Jack grimaces.

"Promise me you won't do anything like that again," Rhys whispers, groggily.

Jack kisses Rhys's collarbone. He turns him gently, so that their bodies are aligned.


End file.
